Soundtrack of Our Failures
by gnbrules
Summary: They can pretend they're okay, sure, but it doesn't stop the fact that every damn song reminds them of each other. Barney/Robin. Two-shot.
1. Robin

**Soundtrack of Our Failures**

**Summary: They can pretend they're okay, sure, but it doesn't stop the fact that every damn song reminds them of each other. Barney/Robin. Two-shot. **

**A/N: Written as an excuse to throw in music that reminds me of Barney and Robin (I'm obsessed that much) without actually doing a songfic. All the music lyrics involved are diegetic, meaning the characters are hearing them inside the story. **

**Robin**

She's not new to the break-up game, not by a long shot. She's hurt others and been hurt herself; she knows the stages of a break-up are essentially the same as that of grief. There's overindulging, overcompensating, and a lack of sleep. There's regret and longing and a sense of loss. She's been there, done that. She's survived this all in the past, and there's no reason why this should feel different than all the times that came before it.

But it does.

This break-up is different. Her relationship with Barney had been different.

This one stings. This mood she's settled in feels dangerously close to permanent.

The funny thing is, Barney didn't even dump her. They just sort of...fell apart. They were fighting too much and they weren't happy and they didn't talk and their friends noticed how much they'd let themselves go and...

Breaking up was the only thing that made sense.

But God, this hurts.

Now Barney's being Barney again, and she's trying to put on a brave face and leaving when it gets too hard. She's crying when she should be sleeping and drinking when she should be eating and feigning laughs when she's with her friends, because at least she can spare them all this self-pity/self-loathing/despair.

Worst of all, Barney's ruined music for her.

It used to be such a comfort when she could just listen to her iPod and zone out, or sing something in the shower and not have it stir up memories, or hear a song on the radio and not get a lump in her throat.

The first time she notices the pain of the music is the first day after their break-up. She's on her way to work and the radio's on, and the first song she hears that day hits her like a punch. It's by Missy Higgins and it's a devastating song, and she knows she'll have to hit the bathroom when she gets to work, because the tears are almost certainly making her mascara run.

_Because I don't know, who I am, who I am, without you. _

_All I know is that I should. _

_And I don't know if I could stand another hand upon you, _

_All I know is that I should._

And it just sucks that she knows the whole damn song by heart, because even though she'd immediately turned it off, the song plays in her head for the rest of the day.

The next few weeks are hell, because everywhere she goes, the music follows. She swears that no one is ever more aware of the prevalence of love songs in modern music than when they're going through this amount of heartache.

_Modern music. _This gives her an idea, what seems like a stroke of brilliance after a week of trying to avoid music altogether. The next time she's in the car, she finds a Classical Music radio station in the hopes that the lack of lyrics will destroy the possibility of being reminded of _him._

But the first classical song she listens to has the unmistakable sound of violins, and she sees his face in her mind, and she's left with a nauseous feeling and a bad taste in her mouth. She checks classical music off the list of possible non-Barney reminders.

It's hard enough to see him when they hang out in a group. She finds herself wanting to touch him, kiss him, hold his hand, but she lets him hit on other women instead. He's perfectly fine without her, so she does nothing to stop him.

Life goes on.

She dates other men, even opens her heart up a little bit, starts taking chances.

Days and weeks and months pass. Years.

People like Don come and go, and it both hurts and doesn't hurt. With the help of her friends, she manages to recover enough to keep faking smiles, and later, some of the smiles even seem real to her.

Time makes it easier to forget.

Music stops feeling so painful, though there are certain songs she still avoids like the plague. Sandcastles in the Sand is one of them. It's not like she listens to it regularly, but even a mention of Robin Sparkles by any of the gang puts it in her head for days, along with thoughts of _him and their relationship and how it all began._

When Kevin first comes into her life, she grabs at him and tries to hold on, because he's a nice guy and he _is _cute and he's seen her at her most vulnerable and still likes her enough to date. It's with Kevin that she thinks she can have a new start, because their relationship is slow and sensible and is what someone like Ted dreams of having, what people like Lily and Marshall are lucky enough to have...

But her attempts at self-delusion turn out to be fragile.

She's just starting out with Kevin and hoping it can last when the song comes out of nowhere, just when she thought she was safe from music and the way it could make her think of _him_. It's a sneak attack and she's cornered in the supermarket and it's playing over the intercom and she's got nowhere to run. And it's quite sickening, really, that the song that tears down all her hopes that she can _ever _get over Barney would come from Taylor Swift, of all people.

_He can't see the smile I'm faking_

_And my heart's not breaking_

_Cause I'm not feeling anything at all_

The lyrics wash over her. She's rooted to the spot and her cart's taking up the whole aisle. An annoyed fellow shopper makes a soft tutting noise of disapproval as she maneuvers her way around Robin.

_And you were wild and crazy_

_Just so frustrating, intoxicating_

_Complicated, got away by some mistake and now_

She squeezes the orange in her hand, digs her nails into its skin.

_I miss screaming and fighting and kissing in the rain_

_It's 2am and I'm cursing your name_

_So in love that I acted insane_

_And that's the way I loved you..._

_Breaking down and coming undone_

_It's a roller coaster kinda rush_

_And I never knew I could feel that much_

_And that's the way I loved you..._

And that's when she knows she can pretend all she wants. It makes no difference. Kevin is safe and easy, comfortable. Chances are, he hasn't slept with two hundred women and he'll probably never break her heart. In fact, he _can't _break her heart because it still rests in the hands of someone else.

_Shit, _she thinks. She is so hopeless, in love, screwed up, and worst of all, she finds herself relating to the likes of Taylor Swift. And all because of that wild, crazy, frustrating, intoxicating, gonna-be-the-death-of-her, Barney Stinson.

**A/N: Reviews are much appreciated. And even if you must hate on Taylor Swift, at least concede that the song fits, haha. **


	2. Barney

**Barney**

Robin is the first woman to ruin music for him. Shannon was his first love, sure, but after he'd recovered from that break-up, he'd given up everything that had bound them together. His entire life, reinvented. Barney let himself hate Shannon in a way he could never hate Robin.

Music was easier to listen to, back then.

The break-up with Robin really hits him the day after, like the most brutal of hangovers. At first, he thinks he dreamed it, because why would Alan Thicke be there and how could he look so fat in his reflection last night and feel so trim today?

But reality sets in and he needs to escape it, so he sets out for a jog before work.

That's the first time the music hits him.

He's got his iPod on and he puts his earbuds in just as he steps out of the building.

He starts to run and the song begins to play. He stops in his tracks before he's even gone ten steps. _You Give Love A Bad Name_, by Bon Jovi, reverberates into his ears.

_You're a loaded gun._

_There's nowhere to run._

_No one can save me,_

_The damage is done._

He stands there for a moment, listening to a song he used to love. He can't help it; he thinks of her, that gun-toting Canadian who has left him feeling precisely as though he's been shot through the heart. The iPod in his hand feels like a traitor. Music has never hurt so much.

He turns off the offending item and shoves it in his pocket. He can run without it.

He swears off music for the next three days, but even then, he can't escape. Music is a constant. It plays in elevators and grocery stores, on television shows and commercials and movie trailers.

Every single song reminds him of Robin.

Breaking up had seemed right at the time. They weren't happy; they were a train wreck. So why does music seek to mock him?

But then, he remembers, music's been to blame this whole time. Sandcastles in the Sand. Why had they both found it so funny that night? Why had it brought them closer? And why does it seem to always be playing in the back of his mind now?

The fact is, he's Barney Stinson and he doesn't do pain, hasn't been able to since Shannon. He's pretty sure an overload of emotion now would kill him, so he does his best to turn everything off. Feeling, memory. He imagines pressing a button to make it all go away, but it takes a bit more effort than that.

So he stays away from music when he can help it and throws himself back into his old lifestyle. He hits on women at the bar and hooks up with many. He looks for blondes and red-heads, anything but brunette because the comparisons are, quite frankly, bad enough as it is.

He tries to be friends with Robin again. It's awkward, but they pretend like it's not. They have the group dynamic to think about, and despite what many may believe, he does his best to not be selfish.

Sometimes, Robin points out women for him to hit on, and maybe that's her way of normalizing this, but he hates it. He hates that she can push him towards other women so easily and he begins to wonder if she ever loved him.

After one of these instances, he wakes up the next morning with a sleeping blonde draped over his chest and _Like We Never Loved at All _stuck in his head. He doesn't even know why he knows that song, but his mind won't let him forget a single word.

For awhile, he tries experimenting with that crap they call screamo, which has nothing but grunted phrases and,well, screaming. At first, he thinks the violence of it can wash away all those sappy songs, but it sort of sounds like a dying animal, and it concerns him that he relates a little too well. No, screamo doesn't work to block her out.

As Barney's battle against the music continues, Robin begins to date again. He doesn't mean to keep track, but he does. There's a string of one night stands that makes Ted, Marshall, and Lily raise their eyebrows.

He, on the other hand, slaps her a high five, offers her a grimace he hopes can pass as a grin, and takes a drink of whatever is in front of him.

Days and weeks and months pass. Years.

When Robin and Don become an item, Barney becomes this fragile mess of a guy. It doesn't help that Marshall and Ted think that Don might be her 'One.'

One night, after Robin brings Don along to MacLaren's, Barney finds himself pushed too far. He makes up a lie about having things to do and ducks out early.

He can't do this, he can't see her with him and...

He takes a cab home, Rangit at the wheel. He's got the radio on and Barney doesn't feel right complaining.

"Oooh, I love this song!" exclaims Rangit suddenly, and he turns the volume up.

_When you try your best, but don't succeed_

_When you get what you want, but not what you need_

_When you feel so tired, but you can't sleep_

_Stuck in reverse_

Barney literally cringes. It's too fitting, it's too perfectly accurate. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts. And there's no escaping it.

_And the tears come streaming down your face  
><em>

_When you lose something you can't replace  
><em>

_When you love someone, but it goes to waste  
><em>

_Could it be worse?  
><em>

No, it couldn't be worse, thinks Barney. He's trapped and his throat and eyes are burning. He can't cry. Rangit is here, and he just wants to go home and sleep until he's too old to remember her face.

_When you're too in love to let it go  
><em>

_But if you never try you'll never know  
><em>

_Just what you're worth  
><em>

They tried and failed. That should be the end of their song, but the lyrics never stop. He's been in love with her but he's too far gone to change, to be the man she needs him to be.

_I promise you that I will learn from my mistakes._

He can't promise anything, and Robin wouldn't need promises from him, anyway. She's got Don. If not Don, then someone else. She's not like Barney. She can actually make it work in a relationship, if she's got the right guy.

The right guy that will never be him.

The tears _do_ come streaming down his face at this realization, and isn't this pathetic? He's a child again, lost, alone, and crying.

All because a girl and Coldplay broke his heart.


End file.
